


Secrets In The Bookshelves

by sugarby



Category: NieR: Automata (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Library AU, No Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 03:57:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10711701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarby/pseuds/sugarby
Summary: "Why do you want this job?""Um..."Her eyes are looking straight in to his, without blinking.In 9S' defense, it's not that he hadn't thought of this question coming up, but rather too obvious for it to in reality. Plus he's been fascinated by the appearance of the woman interviewing him; he's absorbed her chin mole, her Gothic dress with embroidery across the chest, her curved, snow-white hair and come to the conclusion that she's not a thing like the middle-aged, grumpy librarian he expected from books and films.





	Secrets In The Bookshelves

**Author's Note:**

> ***29/09/17:*** Original ending has been removed/changed because it left this story open to more which I didn't intend.

Before he left his apartment, something inspirational was written on a cork board in his bedroom, surrounded by similar verses: _'A job is an opportunity to experience, to meet, grow and figure out things I was unaware I'm capable of. It builds character, too. The responsibilities involved don't necessarily have to result in failure or total boredom, but even if that's the case, do well so there'll be nothing to regret'_. It's supposed to be 'pep talk', not an opening paragraph to a deep essay. From the board, it moved to become a mantra, spoken while in a nice bath, while dressing—(the mind had split in two, half focused on repetition, half concentrating on handling a tie)—and on route to the interview for the job he'd found and applied for earlier in the week.

He runs it through his head now as he's stood outside a library, looking up at it like it's a literal mountain to conquer, is like a dark fairy-tale illustration. It's likely inspired by Victorian history, too, its dark, dull paintwork and chipped roofing and one, two— _the four_ crows perched on top feel more unwelcoming than beckoning. It's mandatory that he double-check with his advanced model phone that lead him here, "Hey, you sure this is the place?"

"Affirmative." POD-153—his smartphone's registered name—says in it's pre-programmed feminine voice.

"It's different from what I imagined."

"Acknowledged. However, this location remains a match for the coordinates user 9S searched earlier and proceeded to write on his hand." At this reminder, 9S quickly hides said hand behind him like a dirty secret. "Should 9S feel inconvenienced with using his hand, I'm capable of a reminder application."

"N-no! That's— _I'm fine_." He's more _embarrassed_ , so _it's really okay_ if they don't bring this up anymore.

Sometimes misplacing information (or forgetting small details completely) is the way his brain deals with a previous head trauma. He journeyed too far and too high, insatiable curiosity leading him. Then one thing lead to another, he hit the ground and was told his recovery could be long-term with minor side-effects. 9S doesn't think himself an explorer of any kind but his smartphone sort of does, because before they left, POD-153 wondered why it came second to _library assistant_.

"Come on. Me, an explorer? It sounds nice, I'll admit, but the people in that line of work have all kinds of equipment and plenty of money left over for travel expenses."

"Organ donating, run through a chain of businesses underground known as the 'black market', is known to be immensely profitable."

"Er, I'd prefer to keep my organs intact." his smartphone, POD-153, holds no capacity for humor, so it was serious which was concerning.

"Understood. Halting further research on the subject 'black market'."

"Acknowledged. Proposal: 9S should enter the establishment at this time to avoid late arrival."

"Yeah, yeah." 9S groans, retiring his smartphone in the back pocket of his black cargo shorts. 

The job was advertised with the keyword easy, said the applicant had to be flexible for indefinite, drastic change, and experience wasn't required. Nothing about the online ad sounded like a normal job and yet it sounded good enough for his worries, his doubts. _'Nothing like a little self-deprivation every now and then to let himself feel and be even more linked to other people'_. He sounds pathetic, thinking like this—and just to just himself. Saying it out loud to another person would be _worse_.

9S considers that his lacking ability of holding down any job gives him little room to be judgmental. He should be lucky, getting an interview in the same week he applied; most people aren't so lucky, and the terms of their careers are likely stricter. If it were him, he'd be reprimanded because, as his boss at his previous job liked to put it, he's "An insastiable chatter-box and non-stop complainer." What was wrong with making conversation with customers and colleagues though? Work's dull enough otherwise, right?

With his written paragraph practically whispering against his ear, 9S walks towards the library.

***  *  ***

"By your responses so far, I'll say you've almost passed the interview. Now, for the final question..."

9S gulps. Sat nicely in his designated chair for the last forty or so minutes but not comfortably, answering politely and in detail, he hasn't had a moment to relax so far, and now she's about to bring out a bigger question—more relevant than his _hobbies_.

Eyes retrace the top line of the resume, on top of which sits multiple, alliterated names starting with the the same letter. Whatever she, the interviewer and only other person around is thinking, it's not her place to judge or given an opinion. "Why do you want this job?"

  
"Um..."  
  
Her eyes are looking straight in to his, without blinking.  
  
In 9S' defense, it's not that he hadn't thought of this question coming up, but rather too obvious for it to in reality. Plus he's been fascinated by the appearance of the woman interviewing him; he's absorbed her chin mole, her Gothic dress with embroidery across the chest, her curved, snow-white hair and come to the conclusion that she's not a thing like the middle-aged, grumpy librarian he expected from books and films.

"Well?"

"For...money?"

"You sound uncertain."

"No, I-I am! I...I want—for its financial rewards, Ma'am." The rehearsals in front of his tall mirror, the practice answers and online theories hadn't prepared him for _her_. 

"A common purpose behind securing a job is for financial stability, but what I'm asking you is why you're choosing to work in a library, rather than someplace else."

"Oh." 9S' index finger starts tapping against his knee. "...When I read the application online, it was like working here could be worthwhile. Fun." It sounded too easy to be true as well. Sorting books, helping with inquires. Mostly things technology can lend a hand with rather than rely too much on his own abilities and know-how.

"Fun?"

"Talking with customers...working with you, M-Ma'am."

"Really, you don't have to be formal with me." she stresses. "This job provides countless chances to converse with customers, but it's not your main priority. I'll go easy on you since it's your first day, but you should stick to the rules around here."

"My first day? So I have the job?"

" _Trial_." she specifies. "You have the _chance_ to perform well to prove you'll be efficient in the designated role." 2B stands up from her chair, steady and graceful. 9S's follow in her pursuit is stalled therefore hastened, becoming clumsy and scraping chair legs against hardwood floor, slicing through the calm, quiet atmosphere. 9S gulps and fears he was too noticeable. Of course 2B saw and heard. Of course he makes a fool of himself. Of course he's not— "I've heard all I need to from you for now. Any questions or final words?"

9S can't help but hear it like she's preparing to execute him. "Uh, no. Just...thanks for this opportunity and I'm gonna try my best."

"Good to hear."

"I'll be sociable with customers—as much as needed to make them feel welcome. I'm also good at gathering information, so searching book titles online and placing orders won't be a problem." Yes. His smartphone, POD 153, is side-tasked with being a small reminder, but its owner's knack to use technological devices to their best and gather Intel is second to none.

"Thank you. But like mentioned, don't converse too much with customers, though."

"Is that one of the rules here?"

"I'm not forbidding it, just...it takes up time, which in turn interferes with work efficiency and morale. 'Time is money' as they say."

"Who are 'they'?"

"The wealthier consensus."

"Okay, I get it. But flies are better caught with honey than with vinegar."

"When this library transforms in to an insectarium, you'll be notified."

" _C'mon_. Smiling and talking will bring more customers  _and that'll_ be good for business."

2B hoists up a box from beside her feet and places it on the table, "You leave the concerns of the business to me." she says, and opens the box with ease, spreading out its flaps to reveal multiple cloned books. "Your first task will be arranging these in alphabetical order on the shelf behind you."

9S looks in the box, counts all the books he can see and feels slightly out of his depth. "Whoa...you have a lot of books."

"What kind of library could I run if there weren't _a lot of books_?"

"Har har." 9S picks one up turns it, inspecting its cover, its curvy title. "It's gonna take me all day and night to get through them, right?"

"Longer if you continue to talk."

"Jeez, not you too..." 9S groans under his breath, thinking back to his previous boss' description of him. "I hope there's a gift for me at the end of this."

"Payment is enough."

"I don't mind flowers though."

"Well if you're here long enough for your birthday—"

"It passed. January 30th."

"Next year then, now that I have your permission to give you a gift."

"Thanks—wait, my _permission_?!"

"Yes. So let's see if you'll last."

"I'm sure you'll miss me the second I walk out that door."

"I'll contain my despair."

"Please, by all means, I give you my _full permission_ to spill your broken-heart out on the floor."

"Less talk, more work."

9S has never heard of someone wanting permission to buy someone a gift. Sure, it's polite but it throws the element of surprise out the window. Oh well, some people actually get anxious over surprises, so it's a favour to them. He's not definite or anything but but maybe 2B is the kind of woman who grew up around certain ways of doing things and believes it's proper to ask permission for every little thing. Weird or not, it at least means she's _considerate_. On top of _beautiful_.

"I'm detecting suspicious increase in heart-rate."

"Please shut up."

"Unable to comply with that request when it conflicts with my priority to support your well-being. Proposal: combat your irregular respiratory experience before experiencing shortened breath, flushed complexion, cold perspiration—"

"Oh my God, Pod, I will _literally_ throw you out or something!"

The smartphone leaves an awkward, human-like pause before it continues, "...Proposal: 9S should avoid damaging this smartphone, as harm will hinder my function as daily support, and you lack the funds to fix or replace me."

" _I know_ , so just shut up!"

"Very well."

2B  steps over another box on the floor to stand in front of him and holds out a hand. "Though it's still early days, welcome aboard, 9S."

Oddly enough, 9S was expecting his presence during the family drama to leave him with less points and _unemployed_ again. "T-Thanks." he takes her hand it's surprising how her grip is more secure than his own. "U-Um...p-p-people who know me call me _Nines_ , Ma'am. Uh, 2B! Sorry!"

"9S works just fine."

"I know..." 'I want to be close to you. I want us to be closer' is floating inside his head, without his permission. That's what he earns for owning a curious mind, it'll wander before he chooses to follow its course or not. "Can I use your nickname?"

"Don't have one."

"Oh. Can I make—"

"Just call me 2B."

"I feel like you're making fun of me..." 9S admittedly mumbles. "Come on. We'll be working together now. Can't I give you a nickname that's actually related to your name? It'll be fun!"

"If you have time to chat, you have time to work, 9S. No distractions." 2B walks off, in that lovely, gothic-like dress of hers with cute frills, and 9S suspects it'll be pretty hard not to be distracted by her from here on.

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  **Bonus dialogue I removed at the last minute:**   
>    
>  9S: "I can try asking her again tomorrow. No big deal."   
>  POD: "Writing your new employer's preference against a shorter name on your hand may suffice."   
>  9S: "Please shut up."   
>  POD: "Proposal: disregard former suggestion and inquire."   
>  9S: "And get my ass kicked? No thanks."


End file.
